Wandering Heart
by darkwriter14
Summary: Beckett notices how Castle is slowly disappearing, melting away into the non-existence he had been before his first case with NYPD. Her heart hurts, but she doesn't understand why. May or may not remain a one-shot.


Kate Beckett glanced at her desktop computer's clock for about the thirtieth time in as many seconds. He was thirty minutes late. He was never late, not even by a minute, because of all the fun he knew he was going to have every day. Beckett knew this because of how insistent he had always been on staying here, how desperate and lonely he felt when she had almost kicked him out for looking into her mother's case. To Castle, this was as good as a second home. He would never be late getting to see his "family".

Beckett tore her eyes from the computer screen and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her hands over her tired eyes. She needed coffee. Normally, Castle would have been perched on a seat beside her desk by now, chattering away with the coffee he had prepared warming her fingertips as she pretended not to listen to his yapping. Although she got there early and had a cup of coffee way before he arrived, Beckett knew he liked to go through his motions and let him make her a cup of coffee at this time in the morning. But he wasn't here right now, and there was no hot coffee refreshing her and warming her hands. Beckett pushed her chair away from the desk and stood up to make her way to the lounge where the coffee machine was.

Ryan and Esposito, their own cups of coffee in their hands and half-drunken already, glanced up as she passed Esposito's desk. "Castle coming in today?" Esposito asked soberly.

Beckett responded with a half-shrug and an "I'm not sure" before proceeding to the lounge. As she waited for her mug to fill, she once more found herself glancing at the nearest clock, which was hanging on the wall. Thirty-two minutes late now.

Beckett pressed her lips into a thin, wan line and reached for her coffee mug. When she found it too hot, she pulled back her hands and leaned against the table to wait for the cup to cool.

Half an hour. This had been occurring on and off for the past month, and had increased in frequency in the past week. Some days Castle would arrive ten or fifteen minutes late—and he was never late—at the precinct, but nonetheless, he came. One the days like present, when at least 30 minutes passed with no sign of him, Beckett had learned that he would not come. Usually, though, he would text h—

Beckett straightened at the buzz of her phone in her pocket. She pulled it out and flipped the cell open, revealing the _New Message_ alert that had popped onto the screen. With a sinking heart, she already knew who it was from. _Speak of the devil_, she thought, giving a chuckle that held no humor before clicking open the message.

_Cnt cm 2day. Wll c u ltr. C_

Beckett snapped the phone shut with a little more force than necessary. His messages were getting worse, too. Normally, Castle preferred using English instead of what he called the "language invented for lazy kids who don't understand English"—a.k.a., the texting language. Last time he had texted a similar message when he didn't come in to the precinct, he used only a couple of abbreviated words. Before that, he had used none.

Suddenly getting the urge to talk to Laney, Beckett snatched her coffee mug from the counter and stalked off in the direction of the morgue. Ryan and Esposito once again looked up inquiringly and, before they could even ask, she gave them an answer. "He's not coming today," she said curtly, barely giving them a sideways glance. The crazy mix of emotions inside was not going well for her, and it was all she could do to not take her frustration out on them.

Laney glanced up and paused in her work as she heard Beckett enter the room. The corpse she was looking at had already been identified, and it was not a murder, but she didn't like to take chances. She was always thorough.

"What's up, girl?" she greeted the detective, straightening and stretching her arms. She glanced behind Beckett's shoulder half-heartedly before casting a look at her. "No Castle again?"

Beckett pursed her lips into a thin line. "Why do you all ask _me_ that question?" she asked flatly, her voice tight as she reigned her unjustified anger in.

Laney raised her eyebrows at her. "What got _you_ in such a wad? This isn't the first time he's been gone, you know," she pointed out.

Beckett knit her eyebrows and folded her arms tightly against her chest as she bit her lip. "I _know_ that, but—" She trailed off, unable to find the words to describe what she was feeling.

Laney waited for a moment, waiting for her to explain what was going on inside her head, but only silence followed. She was about to fill her gap for her when Beckett rushed on.

"I just don't know what his problem is! I have no idea what's gotten into him!" Her voice only gave the slightest hint of rising, but not by much. She ranted on in her own way of frustration, which normally didn't involve raising her voice.

Laney sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. Honestly, the two of them—Castle and Beckett—were enough to drive her to the nut house. Neither of them could read each other's emotions very well. "Girl. Really?" Laney asked, peeling her eyes open to give Beckett a pointed look.

Before she could reply, Beckett closed her mouth as the buzzing of her cell phone once again caught her attention. She reached in to grab it, pretty sure it wasn't Castle, and wondered who it could be. As she flipped it open, a message popped up on her screen. For a moment, right before she read who the sender was, she had a half-hearted hope that it was from Castle, saying that he was on his way. But as quick as the small flame burst up, it went out. Instead, it brought out a different flame altogether…one that she couldn't tell whether it was warm or not. She looked up at Laney, whose face was flat and completely unreadable. "It's Demming," she explained, for some inexplicable reason feeling the need to tell her.

As Laney watched her friend turn and walk out of the morgue, she let out a slow sigh and shook her curly-haired head. "Get it together, girl," she muttered, drumming the table nervously with her fingers. Her words fell only on cold, lifeless ears.


End file.
